


Price of Admission

by cinnamon_skull



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Romance, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Slow Build, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_skull/pseuds/cinnamon_skull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim fucked up...by buying a bottle of wine at the movies. He didn't plan for Jason, the bartender, to be quite so concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Price of Admission

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this "Today I fucked up" tumblr post: http://cinnamonskull.tumblr.com/post/132757605467/today-i-fucked-up-by-buying-a-bottle-of-wine
> 
> Big thank you to my partner-in-crime and co-conspirator, @Generatorcat. Long live JayTim--thank you forever for showing me the darkness.

_“Please,”_ Steph purred, running her fingers coyly up and down Tim’s thigh with her pouty lips pursed.

“You know your charm has no effect on me,” Tim muttered, slapping her hand away with a withering look.

She tilted her head slightly, making her blonde hair slide across her shoulders and catch the light perfectly, so that it looked like spun gold. One fine, perfectly arched eyebrow was raised in combat.

“Okay,” Tim huffed, hating the way her lips curved into a knowing smirk. “At some point it did have an effect on me, but I think we’ve now established that no dick, no dice, _sweet_.”

Steph laughed, pretty and airy like wind chimes in a breeze, and Tim knew that sound well — nothing good usually followed.

“Oh, Timmy,” Steph said, fluttering her eyes a bit. “You know that’s never stopped me before.”

“But you said you didn’t want anything before we got to our seats, and now the movie is starting in fifteen minutes.” Tim tilted his seat back all the way in defiance, ignoring her suggestive tone. “You know how much I like the trailers.”

“You are so weird,” she said, dropping her act for a second and then catching herself with a little puff of her chest. “I mean, please Timmy. _Please._ I’ll make it worth your while.”

Tim’s ears perked up a little, and he grinned. “Oh, really?”

“Within in reason,” Steph backpedaled quickly and her voice lost its saccharine lilt, but it was too late. Tim had that look in his eye, and she knew she was about to sign her life away.

Several minutes of tactical negotiations later, and Tim whistled to himself as he walked back to one of the pseudo concession stands of the theater. He’d never been happier to buy a bottle of wine in his life. After all, the purchase guaranteed him a chance to borrow B’s car for a weekend joyride and well, let’s just say that Tim wasn’t about to pass up that good of an opportunity.

Who cared what Steph had to do to make that little miracle happen?

Tim cut a path to the nearest bar and took his place at the end of a small line. As he waited his turn, he was thankful that he had the foresight to jam his fake ID into his wallet before leaving to pick up Steph.

As far as best friends went, Steph was a pretty good one. Sure, they had a bit of history, but this was Gotham, so who didn’t? The past was in the past where it belonged, and Tim and Blondie were much better at being partners-in-crime and occasional therapy buddies than anything romantic.

At least once a month, they liked to dress up all fancy and head to a swanky theater located on the wealthy side of Gotham. It didn’t serve popcorn like regular theaters but expensive champagne and five-star cuisine. Tim definitely preferred the grittier downtown theaters with the greasy butter machines, but it was a small sacrifice for pleasing his leading lady.

Steph liked the glam of it all, and Tim didn’t mind the super deluxe plush, reclining seats, though he could forgo the suit. Steph insisted it made him _quote look like a total babe unquote_ , so who was he to argue?

Speaking of the devil, Tim’s phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he pulled it out to see her name light up his screen with a single text.

_If someone cuter comes along, I’m not saving your seat._

Charming as always.

Tim typed a hasty response and tucked his phone away, taking care to study the list of reds on the menu to his left.

“Can I help you?” the bartender asked when Tim was next in line. He took a second to decide before sliding his gaze up from the menu. If Alfred was to be blamed for anything, it was for introducing Tim to expensive reds.

“I’ll have a bottle of the _Icono_ , two glasses please.” Tim ordered the second most expensive wine on the list, and slid his credit card across the smooth marble.

If the bartender was surprised by his choice, he didn’t show it. As he reached for the credit card, Tim noticed that the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing sculpted forearms and slightly tanned skin that Tim could study for days. Sliding his gaze up further, Tim saw that he was dressed in a simple black vest and tie, same as all the other servers.

There seemed to be something familiar about the man standing in front of him, though Tim couldn’t place his face — and he rarely forgot one. If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say the man had to be only a few years older than Tim’s eighteen, despite the unexpected pieces of grey hair curling onto his forehead. If Tim was being honest, it did little to distract from his handsomeness.

“ID please?” He asked, giving Tim a lopsided grin that made something in his chest twist. “Sorry, company policy.”

Tim waved his hand quickly and pulled out his wallet, fishing out his fake ID from the fold.

When he handed it over, he tried to ignore the way the bartender’s eyes raked up and down his body a little longer than entirely necessary and chalked it up to a suspicion that he was underage.

“Thanks,” the bartender said, handing him back his ID with another slow smile, and Tim was paying enough attention now that he sought out the nametag clipped to his vest. Jason was engraved on a sleek, silver rectangle that flashed once under the lights.

“Do I know you?” Tim asked quickly, before he could stop himself. Something was nagging at the edge of his mind but it was like trying to capture wisps of smoke through his fingers.

“I don’t think so…Alvin,” he answered smoothly, and Tim was both impressed and unnerved that Jason not only checked for his age but also remembered his name from just one quick glance—most of which was spent eyeing Tim up and down and not on his ID. Alvin Draper, his fake ID read, the perfect name for an all-American upper class goody-goody. “I think I would remember a guy like you.”

“My mistake,” he responded stiffly, ignoring the other man’s easy teasing.

When he slid his wallet back into his pocket, he could feel the barrage of text messages vibrating against his backside. Probably Steph asking him what the hell was taking so long.

Tim wanted to go back to his seat and drink away the Déjà vu settling over his nerves like a cloud. He made an impatient motion with his hand, but Jason didn’t make a move to grab his wine from the rack under the counter.

“Something wrong?” Tim asked, drawing his rich boy arrogance around him like armor. He felt more disoriented than he cared to admit.

“Did you say you wanted two glasses?” Jason asked, and his disarming disposition was impervious to Tim’s practiced arrogance.

“Well, yes,” Tim answered, straightening up and tilting his head in confusion.

“Sorry, but I’m going to need the other person’s ID or else I’m afraid I can’t serve you,” Jason responded, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, s _orry man, blame the big guy upstairs._

Tim has two choices at this point. Admit defeat or …

“Oh,” and Tim summoned up a blush (really not that difficult with Jason’s bright blue eyes trained intently on his face) and diverted his gaze to the counter, forcing out a breathy, shy laugh. “Actually, I’m alone. I was just too embarrassed to ask for just the one glass.”

“You came here alone?” Jason echoed, his voice deep and smooth and without judgment, reminding Tim of polished oak and smoke.

“Guilty,” Tim scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. He just wanted to get back to his seat and watch the movie trailers and maybe get a little tipsy with Steph.

“And you wanted to drink a $150 bottle of wine…alone.” Jason’s eyes slid down Tim’s body again, lingering on his broad shoulders to the cuffs of his suit, where his thin wrists were exposed.

“I know it’s silly,” Tim said, fighting to keep the bewilderment out of his voice. What did this guy care if he wanted to spend the night alone?

Jason reached under the counter and pulled out Tim’s bottle of wine without looking. “It’s not silly,” he said seriously.

“I guess I’ve been pretty lonely lately and thought it might cheer me up.” Tim knew it was a little heavy handed, but he just wanted to get back to his seat and away from the bartender’s strange attention.

Jason slid his credit card through the machine and handed him over a slip of paper to sign. “What movie are you seeing?” he asked casually.

“A scary one,” Tim answered, signing his name and sliding the receipt back over the marble with steady hands. It had been Steph’s turn to pick the movie, and he remembered her saying something about a curse or a possession, but he couldn’t remember the title.

Jason gave him an unreadable look before tucking the receipt into the register perched on the counter behind him. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before turning slightly. Tim watched him in silence as he unbuttoned his vest with quick, sharp movements of his fingers. He stripped it from his shoulders, drawing attention to his narrow waist and flat stomach, and then folded it, tucking it behind the counter. His black tie was next and after that, the first two buttons of his shirt. Tim was too stunned to say anything.

Then he spun around completely, grabbing two wine glasses from the rack.

“Your move, Rick, I’m checked out for the night,” Jason called over his shoulder at another server perched at the other end of the bar, bent over a phone. Rick didn’t look up at Jason, but gave a lazy salute in acknowledgement.

Without another look back, Jason slid under the marble and grabbed Tim’s bottle of wine with his free hand. “Well?” he asked, as he approached Tim.

“What?” Tim stared at Jason critically and drew on his reservoir of pretentiousness while his mind tried to catch up with Jason’s plan. The lonely, innocent act he’d been pulling moments before was gone as he demanded, “Can I have my bottle of wine now?”

Jason threw his head back and laughed, loud and lively with no regard to his surroundings. It set Tim on edge, because there was an air of unpredictability about Jason that he didn’t entirely like or trust.

When he was finished, he grinned at Tim. “Yes, you can.” Jason offered the bottle to Tim, holding it in the space between their bodies like an offering.

Tim reached out for the bottle, but Jason pulled back at the last minute with a quick, calculated twist of his wrist. “But you’re not drinking it alone.”

“Excuse me?” Tim sneered on reflex to mask his surprise and drew himself to his full height. Unfortunately, that was several inches shorter than Jason’s six-foot frame.

“You heard what I said,” Jason said. The Cheshire grin he’d been flashing all night disappeared for a moment as he trained serious, steely eyes on Tim. But whatever emotion was going on behind his gaze was gone almost in an instant, and Jason continued on in his sunny voice. “Now hurry up, we’re about to be late.”

“We?” Tim repeated dumbly, as Jason grasped his sleeve and pulled him toward the theater.

“Aww,” Jason said as he weaved them through the crowd without looking back. “Look you don’t have to play dumb, it’s cool.”

“What?” Tim was too shocked to put up much resistance, and Jason seemed hell-bent on getting them to their destination in record time. They.

_Plural._

A dawning, mildly horrible realization was beginning to creep its way up the back of Tim’s mind.

Jason tugged him into the darkened theater as the trailers were playing. Fuck it all to hell, he always missed the trailers! “Over there,” Jason whispered at the same time that Tim wondered how he was going to explain this to Steph.

As it turned out, Tim didn’t really have to wait long for her reaction. She was staring at Jason with her lips parted in shock as they passed her, sliding into two empty seats in the row positioned right in front of her.

“Oh my god,” she mouthed at Tim while Jason set down the glasses and began to uncork the wine. She started to discreetly snap photos of them with her phone, and Tim glared at her with his hands on his hips before he was forced to sit down by another guest’s angry whisper.

“I have to say,” Jason said and paused as he uncorked the wine between them with an audible pop. “I hate scary movies.”

Tim gave him a helpless look.

“Ordinarily, I’d never voluntarily see one,” Jason said as he poured wine into their glasses. “But you’re special, A—hey, do you mind if I call you A?” But Jason plowed on without waiting for a response from Tim. “I don’t know, I guess I just couldn’t say no.”

“I didn’t ask you to join me,” Tim couldn’t help but point out. He felt his phone vibrating madly in his pocket.

“Shh,” Jason said, pushing a full glass at Tim. “It’s starting.”

As the lights dimmed further, Tim took a moment to collect himself. Apparently Jason the bartender had something against allowing a well-dressed man to watch a movie or drink a good bottle of red wine alone.

A quick, furtive glance at Jason, and he saw that the other man’s eyes were glued to the screen. Sighing, he quietly pulled his phone from his pocket and dimmed the screen before taking a look.

_Hurry up, nerd, the trailers are starting_

_Where the hell are you?_

_Are you making the wine?_

_??????????_

_Did you fly to Italy for a bottle or what?_

_Cute guy alert, you’re missing out!!!_

_WTF Tim?!?!_

_Who is that??!?_

_Did you pick up a guy at the bar Timmy?_

Tim groaned internally. He could practically hear Steph’s scandalized tone.

_Not exactly. I’ll explain later, okay?_

_Oh, it’s more than okay, Tim. I just got front row seats to the best show in town._

_Please don’t tell Dick._

_Oops._

Tim glared at Jason and the bottle of wine siting between them. It was his proclivity for red wine—and a chance at B’s lambo—that had gotten him into this mess. Seeing no other option, Tim settled into his leather chair and downed his first glass of wine.

“You nervous or something?” Jason smirked from his chair at the sound of Tim’s empty glass hitting the small slab of marble resting between their armrests.

“No,” Tim scoffed, drawing his arms over his chest and trying to concentrate on the film.

Jason left him alone for the time being, most likely because the movie had started in earnest. And after about fifteen minutes, one thing was abundantly clear.

When Jason had said he didn’t like scary movies, well, that was an understatement. The first sign of a jump scare or loud sound, and Jason was clawing at his arm, pressing his big, warm palms into Tim’s shoulder and forearm.

Tim drained another glass of wine and decided he was getting drunk and no one was going to stop him. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And thats a wrap! On part one, at least. 
> 
> Longest JayTim story I've written yet. Again, thank you to the ever lovely, patient and kind Kitty Cat (Generatorcat). If you don't know her or haven't read any of her fics... well, what are you waiting for?
> 
> If you liked it and want to see what happens next, leave some love in the form of kudos and comments.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: cinnamonskull


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